


the touch of your hand

by labocat



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-23 14:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/pseuds/labocat
Summary: Only fools catch colds in the summer.





	the touch of your hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyGwenllian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGwenllian/gifts).



Only fools caught colds in the summer. 

The problem was, Victor, for all his skill and uncanny ability to both put people at ease and completely unbalance them, was an idiot about his own limitations.

A quick succession of sneezes from the side of the rink had Yuuri skating over to the boards, pausing a safe distance away before tilting his head to stare at Victor. It wouldn’t do for him to get sick as well, after all.

“Yuuri, why are you stopping? We should have another hour of rink time.” Victor pulled out his phone to check that, in fact, there was still time left, but as he did, another bout of sneezes caught up with him. Yuuri shook his head as he picked up the phone off the ice, holding it just out of Victor’s reach and sighed.

“Because you’ve caught a summer cold and should go home.”

“What are you talking about, Yuuri, I never get sick!” At this point, Victor’s pleading tone was only about half as effective, especially when Yuuri was the only one on the ice, so Yuuri simply raised one eyebrow as the declaration was followed by another sneeze. “This is simply allergies.”

“Allergies that set in after you spent all night drinking with Minako after a day at the beach.” Yuuri chanced reaching forward to poke at Victor’s cheek, just below the bags that were already forming under his eyes. “Go home and sleep, Victor.”

For a second, Victor’s eyes met his, holding Yuuri in place and freezing time, until he realized Victor had grabbed the hand that was poking his cheek. “Will you look after me, then? Give me a sponge bath?” Spell broken, Yuuri stumbled backward, jerking his hand out of Victor’s grasp and feeling his cheeks heating as he processed Victor’s joke. “Don’t...don’t be ridiculous,” he said, feeling a little bad as something in Victor’s eyes dimmed. Likely only exhaustion catching up with him. “I’ll go get you some cold medicine, though.”

With reassurances that he would run through the step sequences more — no jumps without someone else there, no, Victor, he promised, he’d even video it to be watched later — Victor sniffled his way out the door and presumably back to the onsen, leaving Yuuri to fulfill his promise and pick up some cold medicine.

By the time he got back, Victor had been shooed upstairs to sleep. Yuuri watched him, taking in the improbably perfect fall of hair across Victor’s cheek flutter with each breath, the way Victor’s lashes fanned out starkly even against his lightly flushed skin, losing track of time and everything else to the point that when Victor cracked an eye and asked, “Is that for me?”, the cool towel Yuuri had been holding had formed a large wet spot on his pants and had become lukewarm.

“No! I mean, yes, I mean. I’m getting you a new one.” It had to be the cold and exhaustion, making Victor look at him so softly, as if everything was okay the minute he saw Yuuri there. And if Yuuri had to splash some cold water on his face in the process of refreshing the towel, well, no one had to know.

Getting Victor to take the cold medicine was a rougher prospect that getting him to go home. After the first time and complaining about the bitter powder, Yuuri had to all but bribe him. They sat and watched videos of Yuuri’s practice, filmed from multiple angles by the triplets, but only after Victor had taken the medicine. Sometimes Yuuri would even site up on the bed with Victor, hoping that Victor couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating. Victor’s was fast, but that was of course a side effect of the cold, and Yuuri could only let himself think of it as something to worry about.

It all seemed to be helping though — Victor was sneezing less, even if the general wooziness and weakness was still there. The medicine also seemed to make him say all manner of odd things, which Yuuri had mostly ignored. There were only so many jokes he could take, after all.

“Yuuri, hold my hand,” Victor had whined, his voice soft as the medicine dragged him to sleep.

“You’ll get me sick,” Yuuri had responded, turning a page in the magazine he’d been reading out loud to Victor on local tourism, mostly for something to do.

“So mean, Yuuri, you can wash your hands afterward!” The words had slurred together slightly, and when Yuuri looked over, meeting Victor’s gaze was marked with short periods of open eyes, rather than blinks. Yuuri had excused himself under the pretense of getting Victor another glass of water, but found himself stopped at the top of the stairs, back to the wall as he breathed deeply, trying to gather his thoughts. When Victor had showed up, Yuuri had known that there would be a lot of new information about Victor that he would have to categorize and learn to deal with. There was a lot that fit with what Victor portrayed to the public — his dedication to the sport, his artistry, his sheer genius and his bold but cheerful approach to most things — but the rest of it, each new revelation Yuuri held close to his heart. The light in Victor’s eyes when he tried a new food he liked, the concentration there as he watched Toshiya cook, or the slight sadness he caught sometimes when Victor would stare out at the water when they took Makkachin down to play. He’d almost gotten used to Victor’s way of saying anything that would get him to react, but clearly not well enough, as this was all this had to be. Thought Yuuri didn’t know why Victor would want to know and test all of Yuuri’s reactions. This Victor, with his guard completely down, was one Yuuri didn’t know how to handle.

There had to be some explanation for it, a rational one that had nothing to do with the way Yuuri’s heart fluttered any time Victor looked at him. He scrubbed his hands over his face, scrambling downstairs and back as he realized his water glass excuse was getting flimsy. When he entered Victor’s room again, Victor was sitting upright, eyes still mostly closed, but smiling softly in a way that made Yuuri feel like everything was tilting sideways. He shoved the glass into Victor’s hands more roughly than he intended, apologizing quickly and sitting back down, then standing back up again as the magazine crinkled underneath him.

Victor laughed, the rough sound of it bringing Yuuri back to the situation. As soon as Yuuri looked up, Victor shifted to sink back down under the cover, settling back against the pillow and turning to watch Yuuri. His hazy stare pinned Yuuri in place again, until all Yuuri could do was count the number of heartbeats between Victor’s eyes meeting his and the way that count kept rising. Finally, Victor murmured, “You don’t have to read again, but if you won’t hold my hand...don’t leave? Stay here by me, please?” 

Something in Yuuri’s chest wrenched at that, at the words he wanted to say, so many times, every time they left the ice. The automatic denial at one of Victor’s medicine-fueled requests paused on his tongue, his mouth dry and heart pounding. “Alright. I’ll stay,” he said, leaning over to smooth Victor’s hair back before replacing the towel on his forehead. He was glad Victor’s finally closed eyes meant he didn’t see Yuuri blush, even as it drew attention to the soft, soft smile on his lips. Once Yuuri was sure Victor was asleep, had watched the rise and fall of Victor’s breaths ease and settle into a slow rhythm, he let his hand brush over Victor’s, just once, before leaning back in his chair and letting himself nap as well. 

When he woke up, their hands were intertwined and resting on the bed, but when he looked at Victor, he seemed just as deeply asleep as he had been before, breathing in the same slow rhythm. Face red, he extricated his fingers slowly so as not to wake Victor and went downstairs to get a bowl of rice for their dinner. And if he settled back into the same position, fingers just lightly brushing Victor’s, then he could explain it as an accident and no one would know of his indulgence. He’d stay by Victor’s side as long as he wanted Yuuri there, and hoped that Victor would stay by his just long enough for Yuuri to show Victor what he meant to him.


End file.
